


(feel) better love

by QTCutie (Qtcutie)



Category: Bleach
Genre: (previously in the future?), Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Depression, Ensemble Cast, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Time Travel, Turn Back the Pendulum Arc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22113448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qtcutie/pseuds/QTCutie
Summary: "He’s a shock of bright orange hair, but if the fine deep blue yukata wasn’t enough of a giveaway, those distinct, elegant features would. More like Kūkaku than Kaien, in Kisuke’s humble opinion. Not that it matters, a Shiba is a Shiba, and-- oh, Soul King’s Mercy."Or,Kisuke doesn't so much befriend the newest member of the Shiba Clan as he is forcibly befriended.
Relationships: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke
Comments: 30
Kudos: 1038
Collections: Lovely Pieces





	(feel) better love

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Swinging Pendulum](https://archiveofourown.org/works/855577) by [cywscross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cywscross/pseuds/cywscross). 



> I'm calling every 6 "sections" one chapter. To keep up w/ this as it's being written, follow me @gigglesdrabbles on tumblr. Actually you can follow me there for all of my writing updates, including some stuff i didn't consider good enough to be posted here.

**1.)**

It’s winter when he first meets Shiba Ichigo. 

Well. It’s not quite winter yet. It  _ feels _ like winter, cold and sharp. But the trees are still clinging to what remains of their leaves, and though the air  _ tastes _ like snow they haven’t had the luxury of the first fall yet. Kisuke is willing to bet it’s, hm. A week off? Give or take a day. 

He wonders if that’s what it will take, to turn Yoruichi’s eyes back in his direction. A bet she can’t lose-- she’s always been able to predict the weather, nearly down to the hour. Benefits of being able to spend so much time as a cat, Kisuke supposes, and banished the thought from his mind.

Yoruichi made her choice. She chose what path she thought best for him, and like always Kisuke turned his feet in that direction. If that path leads away from here, well...

Given another hundred years or so, this might feel less like betrayal. And maybe it will turn out for the best, this whole Captaincy thing. For now, though, Kisuke wants to wallow in his hurt without the expectations of  _ gratefulness _ and  _ debts _ . He didn’t  _ want _ this. He was  _ fine,  _ being _ Onmitsukidō,  _ being her Third, Benihime a comforting secret at his side-- he didn’t achieve bankai for the  _ rank _ , he did it for Benihime, because she  _ wanted _ him to have it.  _ Him _ , and not a dozen other--

Trees creak and branches snap as Kisuke’s reiatsu flares in anger. He reigns it in quickly enough, of course, that kind of loss of control is  _ unacceptable _ . He’d completely trashed his private room back in the Twelfth already. Which is why he’s out here, in the Rukongai, where it won’t matter any.

Shouldn’t matter any, when he lashes out at the trees around him just for the visceral pleasure of it. But there’s a flare of reiatsu in response, unfamiliar and comforting in a way its inky blackness has no right being. It’s such an.  _ Intimate _ . Gesture, that it stops Kisuke in his tracks. Because  _ no one _ does that for him-- his reiatsu is winter, cold and sharp and the taste of snow.

Tentatively, Kisuke reaches back. It’s like Yoruichi, a bit, like touching lightning. But where Yoruichi is wind and fangs and cold sleek fur, this is. Hot. Searing-quick and sunflash-bright, and, somehow, something.  _ Sweet _ . Kisuke almost chokes on the laugh that startles its way out of his throat. How does something  _ feel _ sweet? He doesn’t know, but it does.

He’s a shock of bright orange hair, but if the fine deep blue yukata wasn’t enough of a giveaway, those distinct, elegant features would. More like Kūkaku than Kaien, in Kisuke’s humble opinion. Not that it matters, a Shiba is a Shiba, and--  _ oh, Soul King’s Mercy _ .

“Shiba- _ dono _ , my  _ deepest _ apologies,” Kisuke says as quickly as he can, bowing from the waist because he can’t quite bring himself to kowtow on the forest floor, even though-- even  _ Yoruichi _ , flagrant of rules and social niceties as she tends to be, didn’t give Kisuke the permission to greet her like that until they’d known each other for  _ centuries _ . To act in such a manner towards a Shiba scion he’s never even met is--

Gentle brown eyes that sparkle with amusement. A scar that wraps around his throat, like someone flayed him open and someone else roughly stitched him back together. He’s as fast as any Shihōin, Kisuke thinks, maybe even as fast as Yoruichi, because he didn’t even see a  _ flicker.  _ But he sees the boy now, his wide smile and the way it makes the corners of his glowing eyes crinkle just a touch.

That black reiatsu settles just on the uncomfortable side of heavy. Not choking. Less like the weight of deep water, more like the press of a weighted blanket. It  _ could _ be choking, if it wanted. Could crush Kisuke with something close to  _ ease _ . That darkness runs deep, and  _ hungry _ , and Kisuke only barely holds himself back from testing the edge of it. The Shiba scion is being presumptive, most certainly, but Kisuke has made enough of a fool of himself already.

“Urahara- _ taichō _ , right?” the boy says, a question that isn’t a question, voice as warm as his smile. He holds himself more like a Rukongai brat than a noble. Slouching. Open. Even the tip of his head is curious instead of mocking. “Captain of the Twelfth?”

It’s hard not to feel like a bug under Shiba’s attention, waiting tensely for the other shoe to drop. Kisuke nods instead of opening his mouth, because he  _ knows _ he tends to make things worse when he opens his mouth, he’s very good at making things worse when he opens his mouth. He can’t help the way his eyes try to slide off the Shiva, like he’s not even worthy to  _ look  _ at him, which. Is a feeling Kisuke hasn’t had the luxury of experiencing in years. Its absence has not made it any easier to bear.

Shiba  _ laughs _ , though, like  _ music _ , sunshine and joy given sound. Reaches out and claps Kisuke’s shoulder, and Kisuke tries not to jump. He’s not a. Physical. Person. Except with Yoruichi, and even then only when she’s in a teasing mood. And if  _ Onmitsukidō _ has taught him anything, it’s that people are only safe when they are held at arm’s length. 

If he even notices Kisuke’s stiffness, though, Shiba doesn’t show it.

“Shiba Ichigo,” he says with a flourishing little gesture in the general direction of Seireitei. “C’mon. You can walk me home.” 

**2.)**

Kisuke assumes that’s the end of it. He walks Shiba Ichigo home, and. That’s it. Right?

No. Not right. Not right at all.

It starts innocent: Kisuke is picking up taiyaki at his favorite place, and when he steps through the door he walks right into spiky orange hair. Shiba is quick enough to keep his food from hitting the floor, but he has to grab at Kisuke for balance, and his grip is a brand even though Kisuke’s haori and  _ shihakushō _ . The tips of those fire-bright spikes only brush the bottom of Kisuke’s chin. 

Shiba smiles, though, with a breathless little laugh, before the mask comes down in a scowl. He balances his lunch in one hand as he thumps Kisuke on the chest. “Gimme a damn warning next time,” he grumbles, and Kisuke can’t place the accent, but he wants to hear it more. “So damn quiet. I should put a fucking bell on you.”

Kisuke coughs out a laugh, wishing desperately for something to hide the blush rising on his cheeks. A fan maybe. Or a hat. Both?

Both, Kisuke thinks. Because at least Shiba has dressed down, but he still walks close to Kisuke’s shoulder as they weave through the crowded streets towards the Twelfth. The whispers and rumors have never bothered Kisuke before, but-- a  _ Shiba _ , after centuries of friendship with the Shihōin Clan Head? It’s not the worst insult in the world, but it’s not insignificant either. 

As cruel as it sounds, Kisuke almost. Doesn’t mind. His heart is still an open wound, raw and bleeding, and indulging Shiba Ichigo wouldn’t be difficult, really. He isn’t quiet, exactly, but he doesn’t feel the need to chatter mindlessly as they walk either. Doesn’t mince his words-- his observations are almost painfully blunt, without even Shiba Kaien’s rough-edged charisma.

It isn’t as though Shiba is the usual meatstick stock of his Clan, either. Too much like Kūkaku, Kisuke thinks again. His small smile barely wavers as he steps into Kisuke’s office like he owns the place, even as his eyes flicker to the dark corners where camera flies might hide, but it grows into a grin as he notices the rough sketches Kisuke has left abandoned on the desk. Half-formed thoughts and idle concepting to procrastinate doing paperwork, really, but Shiba Ichigo looks over them with a fondness that can only come from familiarity. 

A genius, then. The Shiba family really doesn’t produce enough of those. Talented swordsmen with high levels of reiatsu, certainly. Captains and Vice-Captains and seated officers aplenty. But even with their special secret family school of  _ kidō _ , Kisuke considers it a royal shame that they don’t produce more bright and creative enough to take one look at where Kisuke is trying to chain  _ kekkai  _ into  _ fū _ and tell him he’s doing it wrong.

The affronted noise Kisuke makes is something he will entirely deny later. He’s not above using his height advantage to snatch the page from Shiba’s hands. Sure, he didn’t work  _ hard _ on it, but--

“What would  _ you _ do?” Kisuke asks with narrowed eyes, and doesn’t put up a fight when Shiba flicks open his taiyaki and steals a piece. 

**3.)**

Shiba Ichigo is, objectively,  _ not _ good at  _ kidō _ in practice. 

Oh, higher level spells are like  _ breathing _ to him, with or without incantations. But he just has too much reiatsu and too little control. The first time a  _ Shō  _ tears through one of Kisuke’s labs like a hurricane  _ without an incantation _ , Hiyori puts her foot down and throws them both out by their collars with very firm instructions to take it elsewhere. Kisuke should feel embarassed by the way his Vice-Captain treats him, probably, but it’s just the nature of his relationship with Hiyori-- she, as Kisuke has come to learn, tends to show affection by shouting at the top of her lungs.

Besides, he’s too busy trying to look innocent while Shiba Ichigo leans against him for support and  _ wheezes _ with laughter. Undignified, snorting laughter. Shiba Ichigo is probably the most undignified noble Kisuke’s ever known, and it makes it too easy to forget that he is, in fact, a scion of his prestigious family. 

Though, Kisuke supposes that earning the unwarranted attention of strange nobles is very much becoming a habit. Almost enough of a common occurence to start calling it his brand. Maybe he should start a collection? One from every house…

“It’s good to see she doesn’t change,” Shiba murmurs, breathless and clearly not meant to be heard, And, like all the other strange things that Shiba Ichigo says, Kisuke chooses to ignore it. The young Shiba scion is a mystery, truly, and oh how Kisuke  _ loves _ a good mystery. But he values the integrity of his friendships more, and he’s running out of friendships these days. 

And Kisuke is.  _ Mostly _ . Sure that Shiba Ichigo considers him a friend to some degree. Shiba Ichigo doesn’t smile for many other people, is the thing. It’s just an observation, but it seems to be a consistent aspect of Shiba Ichigo’s personality. Most everyone gets a scowl. Shiba Kaien and the other members of the Shiba Clan get a bland look of indifference at worst, a fondly-aggravated grimace at best. But Kisuke…

Oh, he is by no means immune to Shiba Ichigo’s trademark scowl, or irritated frown, or neutral look of disappointment. But as often as he wears any other expression, Shiba Ichigo also  _ smiles _ for him, soft curling of lips and wide, cocky smirks and the feral baring of teeth. And though Kisuke is  _ honored _ , of course, to be entrusted with such…  _ openness _ , he also finds himself wondering what in the world he has done to earn it. 

Because Kisuke hasn’t done a single thing, actually. If anything, it should be the opposite. Kisuke is well aware he has quite the reputation for being the worst that Seireitei has to offer-- heartless, two-faced, thoughtlessly cruel. All of the emotional detachment of  _ Onmitsukidō _ combined with the signature condescending superiority complex of the Twelfth. Rukongai scum, to top it all off, putting on airs to try and pass him off among his betters. If Shiba Ichigo had any common sense in his head, he’d--

“Hey.”

Kisuke sucks in a sharp breath, wincing when he realises just how shallow his breathing has become. The cold air bites with every inhale, like sandpaper dragging over the front of his throat. The cold is sharp, the promise of ice and snow in the heavy clouds above, but Kisuke feels over-warm, tight and jittery and bursting in his own skin, and a feeling as familiar as it is uncomfortable. What is is about Shiba Ichigo, that he seems to drag up every bad habit that Kisuke has tries to hard to bury? 

At least he has taken to keeping a polite distance this time. Kisuke isn’t sure he’s ever going to get used to how very.  _ Physical _ . Shiba Ichigo has the tendency to be, with comfort and casual affection. 

“I know I can be a lot,” Shiba says, serious as a grave. There’s no smile on his face, just quiet understanding and ages-old brown eyes. “If I’m ever too much, you tell me, alright? I’ll back right off.” 

Kisuke swallows tightly. Doesn’t know if Shiba knows what he’s offering. Who he’s offering it too. Yoruichi gave him  _ leeway _ , of course, but even she set Kisuke’s boundaries for him. It was-- it was  _ fine _ , it was  _ expected _ for a Rukongai brat, for an  _ Onmitsukidō _ member, and it was never anything Kisuke was uncomfortable with. Early on, he was mostly just grateful he was allowed in her presence at all. Later, Kisuke was just. Used to Yoruichi making those decisions for him.

And maybe that’s what this whole Captaincy stunt is supposed to be, agency that didn’t still somehow feel like an ever-gracious gift. 

And had she bothered to  _ explain herself _ , Kisuke might not still be so mad about it all.

Though, really, what did he expect? It’s Shihōin Yoruichi. She explains herself to no one.

“I-- Thank you, Shiba- _ dono _ ,” Kisuke rasps out, and his heart  _ doesn’t _ stutter at the fondly exasperated eyeroll that is Shiba’s response to Kisuke’s insistence on proper titles and honorifics. And part of Kisuke wants to test Shiba, pull back entirely and see of Shiba will keep his word, but he also. Really. Doesn’t mind. Doesn’t mind the smiles, the affection, the firm hand on his shoulder in greeting, the brush of fingers across his wrist when he is deep in work and Shiba needs his attention.

Doesn’t mind being treated like a  _ person _ for once. 

Instead, Kisuke straightens his posture and puts on his usual, charming smile as he gestures at the road in front of them. “Now, lunch, Shiba- _ dono _ ? Or would you like another stab at  _ kidō _ ? Perhaps somewhere we can’t destroy any buildings.”

Ichigo laughs, short and warm and indulgent, the first proof of snowfall glittering like stars against his hair, and the polite space he leaves between them when he falls into step with Kisuke no longer so much feels like an uncrossable ocean.

**4.)**

There are, as Kisuke understands, two versions of Shiba Ichigo.

One of them laughs at Kisuke’s wry humor and steals bites off of Kisuke’s lunch and drags Kisuke out on the weekends to strongarm Kisuke into teaching him how to cast lower-level  _ kidō _ without overcharging it. It’s the Ichigo who sits patiently and listens when Hiyori feels the need to air her grievances about this or that going on in the Twelfth, or in the Gotei 13 in general. Who scowls and banters with Kaien and struggles only half-heartedly when Kaien starts roughhousing. 

The other Shiba Ichigo, though, is. Quiet. Contemplative. Tired, more often than not, and plagued by passing bouts of headaches. This Shiba smiles slower, scowls less, and sometimes, just sometimes, looks at Kisuke like he doesn’t quite remember who the blonde is-- it’s never an expression that lasts very long, but Kisuke’s heart skips a beat every time he gets Ichigo’s attention and is greeted only by a blank gaze. 

_ Battle-weary _ , is how Kisuke might best describe this Shiba Ichigo. An ancient, burdened soul in the body of a young man. There is no explanation Unohana- _ taichō _ can give-- Shiba Ichigo is otherwise healthy, and, though it may be related to the condition and area in which he was found, his tendency to clam up when he gets into those moods makes it next to impossible to actually do anything for him. Fresh air, kind company, and rest, Unohana- _ taichō _ prescribes, and her smile is small and sad.

He stares at the pile of missions of Kisuke’s desk like he’s seen them all before but can’t recognize a single one of them. No headaches today, but Kisuke’s best efforts haven’t been able to shake the distance from Ichigo’s eyes. He wonders, briefly, if maybe this is a matter best left to the Shiba family, because they seem to be full of endless energy and are more than willing to shower affection onto their youngest family member. 

It’s not as though Kisuke steals Ichigo, though. Ichigo seems to seek Kisuke out when he’s in these moods. He doesn’t fight it when Kisuke escorts him back to the Shiba compound, just. Given a few hours, he’s right back to lounging under the window in Kisuke’s office. Everyone has kind of resigned themselves to this reality. 

Maybe it is the monotony of it? Kisuke personally finds paperwork rather relaxing, when he gets into the mood for it. It’s thoughtless, almost. Meditative. Gives Kisuke perspective, and clears his head so he can think better, even if that sometimes means setting it aside halfway through because the clarity has given him inspiration and--

Ichigo’s hand comes down on the next mission file Kisuke is reaching for. Gone is the blankness in Ichigo’s eyes. Instead, he’s. Desperate. Urgently so. As though he has the first clear thought all day, and it is quickly slipping away from him. 

“This one,” Ichigo says, and it’s not the wispy, listless voice of a lost man but the hard, unbending conviction of a battle general. “This one is important. You need to be there, Kisuke.”

Joint-Squad, routine Hollow extermination out in the Rukongai-- Kisuke reads it once, twice, three times, looking for anything that might seem out of place, and finds nothing. It’s not a particularly appealing mission either, out in the forest and the snow. But when he looks up again to ask Ichigo to elaborate, the boy is already resting under the window again, head pillowed in his arms on the windowsill, staring at the middle distance. Gone into his own head again. Kisuke swallows tightly. 

This Shiba Ichigo, apparently, is mildly prophetic.

And even if he isn’t, well… Benihime has been itching to sink her claws into something. It wouldn’t hurt for Kisuke to get out and stretch his legs a little. He amends the roster and jots down his signature and sends it on its way. Last minute, maybe, but better than never. It’s not like anyone expects any better from the eccentric Captain of the Twelfth anyways. Or, well. Hiyori expects better of him, but Kisuke is willing to put up with her harping to sate his curiosity. 

**5.)**

It doesn’t even occur to Kisuke how integrated into his life Ichigo has become until Shiba Kaien comes calling.

Kisuke is doing paperwork and Ichigo is napping beneath the window-- not one of his better days, but not one of his worst-- and the most warning they get is Hiyori’s loud complaints before the Shiba Head is throwing open Kisuke’s door. 

There’s a long moment when nothing happens, because Ichigo makes a small grumbling noise at being woken up, and it kills anything Kisuke was going to say in his throat. The sight of orange hair seems to serve the same purpose to Kaien. Kisuke is half-impressed that Ichigo has this affect on his largely-graceless older cousin. 

The other half of Kisuke is wondering why he is still sharing space with this particular tiger instead of  _ running _ like a  _ sane person _ . 

It’s Hiyori who breaks the silence, because Hiyori doesn’t know the meaning of “silence”. As satisfying as it is to hear her dress down Shiba Kaien for barging into a Captain’s office without so much as a by-your-leave, Ichigo’s already awake and sitting up, mostly alert, fixing where his yukata slipped off his shoulder during his nap, so there’s. Really. Not any point in trying to avoid this. 

“Hiyori- _ fukutaichō _ ,” Kisuke sing-songs, in the same tone of voice people have come to associate with threats of evisceration or life relegated to the role of “lab rat”. It’s amazing, the kind of reaction it gets. Really, Kisuke should use it more often. “Thank you for escorting Kaien- _ fukutaichō _ . I am sure that whatever he wishes to discuss with me is  _ very important _ .”

The file that Shiba Kaien holds up is not much of a shield. Sufficient enough pretense, though-- even Hiyori, even  _ Kisuke _ , respects Ukitake- _ taichō _ . Hiyori huffs and stomps off down the hall, grumbling to herself, as though she isn’t going to sneak back into her office across the hall to listen in anyway. 

Warm fingers tuck a few locks of Kisuke’s hair behind his ear, and Kisuke leans thoughtlessly into the touch. Ichigo looks mostly lucid, which is a relief, though there is still a pinch between his eyebrows that isn’t his usual scowl. Some tea, then, likely wouldn’t go amiss. Perhaps today will be the day Kisuke discovers a blend Ichigo actually likes.

“Can you get us lunch?” Kisuke asks gently, pressing his wallet into Ichigo’s hand. It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Really, Kisuke is mostly hoping that force of habit will win out here.

Ichigo acknowledges his cousin with a short “Kaien- _ nii-san _ ” before slipping away.

There’s silence as the room settles again. Finally, Kaien snorts. “You know he’s going to eat you out of house and home, right?”

Kisuke hums noncommittally. In truth, Ichigo doesn’t eat nearly as much as would be expected for someone with such vast reiryoku. He eats like someone used to living on rations, actually-- exactly enough to replenish and sustain, and not a bite more. Surely Kaien must know this? Unless it is a behavior Ichigo only exhibits in Kisuke’s presence…

He flips to the next report on his desk. The Fifth is requesting  _ more _ joint missions in the next quarter, to compensate for the sudden spike in casualties. Kisuke pauses. He never got the impression Hirako was  _ this _ imcompetant. Careless and mistrusting, maybe, but incompetant? No more than Kisuke. 

“Is there something you require, Kaien- _ fukutaichō _ ?”

Kisuke is well and used to the feeling of being measured and found wanting. He doesn’t take it personally, at least not anymore-- he can count on one hand the number of people who  _ haven’t _ looked at him in that way. Urahara Kisuke is, if nothing else, a man of many flaws.

_ You’re too old for him _ , is what Kisuke expects, because. Well. Kisuke would agree. It’s hard to pin down Ichigo’s age from the way he acts, and Kisuke has never been good at guessing someone’s age just from their appearance, but… close to his first hundred. Would be Kisuke’s best, generous estimate of Ichigo’s age. And he’s still a civilian, if one with great potential. Kisuke is a Captain of the Gotei 13, if his four hundred plus years were not enough of a chasm of power between them. It’s nothing more than close friendship, but Kisuke is well aware that it still looks rather. Suspect. 

Had they met when Ichigo joined the Academy, maybe, they could be seen as master and student, close, but not unusually so. Or, better, were Ichigo already a Shinigami in his own right, Kisuke’s peer in all but rank. As they are now, Shiba Kaien would be well within his rights to try to gut Kisuke, and Kisuke would be in his right mind to let him.

“He doesn’t have many friends,” Shiba Kaien says instead. “And he tends to be… distant. From the rest of the family.” He sets the file on the desk and leans in close, reiatsu dark and stormy waters that crash and crack against the cliffsides. “I trust him to make good decisions, but I still have my eye on you,  _ Kisuke-taichō _ .”

Kisuke schools his expression into something blandly unimpressed. The weight of Kaien’s reiatsu is not quite as vast and crushing as Ichigo’s, but it’s still nothing to scoff at. Well within Captain range. Were he not so content as Ukitake- _ taichō _ ’s Vice-Captain, Kisuke is sure he would make a fine Captain. Or, the Royal Guard would be more than happy to snap the Shiba Head up.

It’s not approval, but. Grudging acceptance, perhaps. Certainly more than Kisuke could have hoped for. Still, a tip of Kisuke’s head is the most acknowledgement Shiba Kaien is going to get. For now.

There’s the near-silent shifting of wind, and Kaien draws his reiatsu back under control and straightens just in time for Ichigo to climb through the window. Kaien smiles, innocent as an angel, and his voice is sweet and sticky as honey.

“Remember, Ukitake- _ taichō _ wants this signed by the end of the day if you can!”

“You’re not staying for lunch, Kaien- _ nii-san _ ?” Ichigo asks, and, yeah, those beetled brows are definitely a headache. The headlock and hair ruffling that Kaien pulls him into certainly does it no favors.

“Not this time, sorry,” and Kaien sounds legitimately apologetic. “Ukitake- _ taichō _ isn’t feeling well, so I’m supposed to stand in for him as a test proctor. I’ll be back for dinner, though! We’ll have your favorite, yeah?”

The smile Ichigo summons up is wan at best, but Kaien lights up like the sun, which. Is the point, Kisuke supposes. Mission accomplished. Ichigo should feel proud. 

Probably just feels pain, though, from the way he only waits as long as Kaien slipping out the door and maybe a handful of steps down the hall before dropping back into his nest of blankets beneath the window with a groan. They should really close the window. Outside, everything is covered with a layer of cold white, all soft around the edges like it’s not quite real. 

Kisuke still isn’t. Good. At physical affection. But it isn’t a chore to gently run a hand through Ichigo’s hair-- it’s so much softer than the wild spikes would suggest. 

“Stay awake,” Kisuke orders, because he’s  _ soft, _ not  _ indulgent _ . “Just long enough to eat something, and you can go back to sleep.”

Ichigo hums in assent, and Kisuke resigns himself to waking the boy again when the tea is done.

The window stays open.

**6.)**

In the interest of honesty, Kisuke  _ might have _ forgotten about New Year’s.

And to be entirely fair Kisuke. Doesn’t really pay attention to  _ any _ holidays. Holidays didn’t mean too much out in the Rukongai, except that people were walking around with a little extra food or some mildly valuable trinkets, and if you’re quick enough with your hands you can maybe, finally filch enough to sate the yawning hunger that’s come to define your life out there. And then he was scooped up by  _ Onmitsukidō _ , and Shihōin, and since criminals don’t tend to take holidays off neither did they.

Yoruichi as Clan Head was concerned with every holiday, and Kisuke just got used to her dragging him out so she could shove him into fancy clothes and he could stand around and piss off the other nobles in attendance while she hung off his arm. It had been fun, but not particularly notable, beyond padding Kisuke’s wardrobe with clothes he’d never wear again.

This year, Kisuke doesn’t even realize that New Year’s is fast approaching until a deep blue envelope is dropped on his desk with the rest of his morning missives. 

He can only stare at it for a long moment, stunned, before he feels his heart break, snapping off sheer with such intensity that he wonders if it had been  _ audible _ . As if, maybe, he’s been run through. As if, somehow, someone has ripped open his ribs and hollowed out his chest. 

But his skin is whole when he presses his palm against it, heart still beating slow and steady even though his breath seems to rattle and shake in his lungs. 

When he accepted his recommendation to Captaincy, he never expected to be  _ uprooted _ . 

And maybe he should have. Benihime is an agent of  _ change _ , after all, first and foremost. Her wielder must be as well. Must never be stagnant, never content with the status quo. Must always be looking to be better, better,  _ better _ . 

He has room to grow, now that he’s out from under Yoruichi’s shadow. 

Long, slow, deep breaths, until Kisuke doesn’t feel quite so much like he’s drowning anymore. Until the pain dulls, just a touch. Until he feels-- maybe not whole again, but less like he is actively falling apart.

He has room to grow, now that he’s out from under her shadow, but Kisuke doesn’t think he’s necessarily better without Yoruichi in his life. Her family raised him, and shaped him, and for the longest time she was the only person he’d ever call a friend. Cutting her out of his life… It’s been like cutting out a part of his own soul.

Certainly there is time in his schedule to have a drink with an old friend, Kisuke muses. And, besides, Yoruichi pushed him into Captaincy. She should at least have to shoulder some of the burden of listening to Kisuke rant about just how bad it is.

The invitation goes to the bottom of work on Kisuke’s desk. If he has not seen it, then he cannot be expected to respond to it. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [-Podfic- (feel) better love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22272661) by [QTCutieOutloud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QTCutieOutloud/pseuds/QTCutieOutloud)




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